out any nouriſhment whatever.—A plant, with its flowers, fades and dies immediately, if expoſed to the air without having its roots immerſed in a humid foil, from which it may draw a ſufficient quantity of moiſture, to ſupply that which exhales from its ſubſtance, and is carried off continually by the air. Perhaps, however, if it were buried in quickſilver, it might preſerve, for a conſiderable ſpace of time, its vegetable life, its ſmell and colour. If this be the caſe, it might prove a commodious method of tranſporting from diſtant countries thoſe delicate plants which are unable to ſuſtain the inclemency of the weather at ſea, and which require particular care and attention.
I have ſeen an inſtance of common flies preſerved in a manner ſomewhat ſimilar. They had been drowned in Madeira wine, apparently about the time when it was bottled in Virginia, to be ſent to London. At the opening, of one of the bottles, at the houſe of a friend where I was, three drowned flies fell into the firſt glaſs which was filled. Having heard it remarked that drowned flies were capable of being revived by the rays of the ſun, I propoſed making the experiment upon theſe. They were therefore expoſed to the ſun, upon a ſieve which had been employed to ſtrain them out of the wine. In leſs than three hours two of them began by degrees to recover life. They commenced by ſome convulſive motions in the thighs, and at length they raiſed themſelves upon their legs, wiped their eyes with their fore feet, beat and bruſhed their wings with their hind feet, and ſoon after began to fly, finding themſelves in Old England, without knowing how they came thither. The third continued lifeleſs until ſun-ſet, when, loſing all hopes of him, he was thrown away.
